The Tale of the Lord and His Scarlet Lover
by CherBella
Summary: This is my entry for the second round of the Twilight 25: He is an English Lord and she is a lower class working girl–two souls destined to be with each other in a society that tries to keep them apart.
1. Chapter 1 – Prelude

**_The Twilight 25_**

**_Prompt: Prelude_**

**_Pen Name: CherBella_**

**_Pairing: EdwardxBella_**

**_Rating: M_**

**All copyright and trademarked items mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. The remaining content is all mine. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without my express written authorization.**

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_**~*~ Prelude ~*~**_

_And so they lay as lovers lie… curled together, bodies entwined and wound into a most intimate embrace. Her head tucked under his, his cheek against her hair._

_Together now for all eternity._

_From the moment they first saw each other, from the moment they first touched as they swirled across the dance floor their hearts beat in a rhythm belonging solely to each other, their fates irrevocably fused together._

_But truthfully this tale of the ill-fated, star-crossed young man and young woman's tragic love began much earlier than that first dance. Their destiny began long ago, their connection forged from the moment they were born…_

She was born to parents of the poor, laboring class in England. Her mother was a housemaid and her father a groomsman of the horses and stables for a wealthy English aristocratic family. It was while working at the family's country house that her mother and father met and fell in love. Fearful of losing their much-needed jobs, they initially tried to hide their relationship. But before long she was with child and they were forced to reveal themselves to their employer. Her father was overjoyed–he loved her mother and gladly wanted to do the honorable thing and marry her and build a life with his wife and child. The couple was concerned, however, that the Lord would cast them both out on the street for the scandalous predicament they found themselves in.

Fate and luck were on their side, as the Lord of the Manor had always found them both to be exemplary employees and did not wish to lose either of them. He allowed them to marry and move to a larger room in the servants' quarters. It was still cramped, barely room for a crib and their meager belongings, but they were in love and happy that they could now be together. They married and soon welcomed a healthy baby daughter into the world.

The young girl's early years growing up at the manor were happy ones, as she was taken care of and doted on not only by her parents, but by all of the other household servants. And the large house and grounds provided many places for a young child to run and play and rejoice in the innocent joys of youth.

Many years later the Lord and Lady of the Manor had a child, a son. Their first child, also a boy, had been an absolute cherub of a baby, perpetually happy and joyful, rarely a cry out of him. The new baby however, was fussy and unhappy from the moment he entered the world. The young daughter of the housemaid and stable manager heard the adults talking of the new baby and she was curious to see him but when she asked to come with her mother to see the baby, her mother told her she must stay away. His poor frazzled nursemaid certainly didn't need another child underfoot while she was trying to take care of him. The young girl was disappointed but did as she was told.

Until one day when her curiosity got the best of her. She was wandering the halls of the servant quarters when she heard the baby wailing loudly from the upstairs. With no one around, she hurried to the end of the hall and up the stairwell to the upper floor that housed the Lord and Lady's residence. She had only been upstairs a handful of times and didn't know her way around very well, but she just kept moving toward the sound of the baby. When she finally came upon his room, she peeked her head around the doorframe. The nursemaid was pacing back and forth, holding the baby against her shoulder and patting his back, trying to soothe him. He continued wailing away, and finally she placed him back in his crib and hurried out of the room through another doorway. As soon as she left, the young girl crept quietly into the room toward the crib. She stood on her tiptoes and peered over the edge of the elegant crib. His face was round and beet red, scrunched up and wet from his tears. He had little tufts of the most unusual reddish-brown hair on his head, and his arms were flailing about, hands curled up into tight fists. She continued to stare wide-eyed at him. In the middle of his tantrum, his eyes caught sight of this little person staring at him and he immediately quieted down, his attention drawn away from whatever had upset him, to the deep brown eyes above him. The little girl snaked her hand in between the slats of the crib and touched his cheek with her pudgy fingers, wiping away his tears. He continued staring at her and she at him.

This was how the nursemaid found them when she entered the room again, holding a fresh nappy in one hand. The young girl was immediately chastised and pushed away front the crib by the nursemaid. The baby boy immediately started crying again, and the nursemaid picked up the baby and carried him off to change him.

The little girl ran from the room, and was scolded later by her parents for being upstairs by herself and for disturbing the baby. But she was still drawn to the boy and whenever she could, she would try to sneak upstairs to see him. Particularly when she heard him crying. Invariably he would always calm down the minute he saw her. Eventually the nursemaid caught on to this unusual effect the little girl seemed to have over the boy, and allowed her to come visit whenever she wanted. He always quieted immediately and his eyes would follow her around in amazement.

The months passed and the baby grew quickly as healthy babies do. He began to sit up and crawl and babble incoherent baby words. He could smile now and whenever the young girl with the long brown hair would visit him he would instantly break out into a big smile and raise his hands toward her. Occasionally the nursemaid would even let the little girl hold him for a short while. Usually he just crawled around on a blanket and she would try to entertain him with a ball or one of his many other toys.

One day the little girl came downstairs after one of her visits with the young baby to find people scurrying in and out of her family's room, and loud moans coming from someone inside. Being so little, she was not noticed at first by the adults and managed to get close enough to peek in the doorway. Her eyes grew big at what she saw. Her mother was lying in bed, perspiring and writhing and moaning in pain. The local doctor was on one side of the bed, touching her stomach. Her father was kneeling down next to the bed and holding her hand, and trying to smooth the hair away from her damp face, talking softly to her. He looked so scared…the little girl had never seen such a look on her father's face. She took a step into the room, intending to go to her father, to find out what was going on when she was grasped by one of the other housemaids and whisked away swiftly toward another room. The maid was speaking to her…something about her needing to stay out of the way right now. Her mother was not feeling well but the doctor was going to make her better.

The little girl stayed in the room for what seemed like forever. Adults came in and out to make sure she was okay, to bring her food or her favorite doll. She heard her mother's moans eventually quiet, and then after a long period of silence and hushed voices she heard her father crying out.

Her mother was not better. She had been in the early months of pregnancy but had been having many days of unusual pains and fatigue and sickness. By the time she had collapsed in pain and the doctor had been called, it was too late.

The adults were crying and hugging her. She didn't understand what was going on, she just wanted to see her mama. Eventually she fell in and out of sleep. When she awoke, she opened her eyes to find her father standing in the doorway. His eyes were red, not focusing; his face haggard and contorted in utter agony and shock. He saw his little girl curled up on the far corner of the bed. He shuffled over and sank wearily down next to her. He crushed his little girl to him and began sobbing again.

After her mother's death her father chose to leave the Manor. He was utterly shattered by his wife's death and could not stay in a place that haunted him with so many memories. Without warning to the little girl, he packed up their few belongings one day and moved them to the city. The day they left she tried to sneak away to go upstairs but her father kept reprimanding her and finally he scooped her up and carried her out to their carriage. Her heart was breaking as they drove away…away not only from the only home and life she'd ever known but also from the baby boy that she did not get to see one last time.

The young boy woke up in a panic. He fussed and cried for a week. The doctor examined him but found nothing physically wrong with him. He was too young to know what was going on but he felt a loss just the same. He simply missed the girl with the long brown hair.

The little girl and her father moved in with his sister for a while until they could get a place of their own. He took a job as a constable in the city and worked a lot of long hours. When he wasn't working he was quiet and distant. He tried to be a father for his little girl but every time he looked at her he saw his dead wife in her eyes and in her smile. He took to drinking to drown his sorrow. When the young girl was sixteen, she came home one day and found him dead. She was now officially alone in the world and on her own, left to fend for herself.

The baby boy meanwhile grew up in his life of privilege, having the best of everything and doing what was expected of him. He spent many of his days, however, unhappy and restless and lonely.

_Two people living in completely different worlds, completely unaware of each other. Unaware that soon their stars would collide, changing their lives forevermore…  
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_**~*~O~X~X~O~*~**_

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_**A/N: So this is an experiment of sorts, born out of an idea one night to try and write a story in a sort of "storytelling" style...maybe like an adult fairytale? IDK...anyway I decided the Twi25 challenge with it's short chapters might be a good fit for this idea. I don't normally even READ period pieces much less have I ever written one so I may completely fail at this, LOL.**_


	2. Chapter 2 – Red

_**The Twilight 25**_

_**Prompt: Red**_

_**Pen Name: CherBella**_

_**Pairing: EdwardxBella**_

_**Rating: M**_

**All copyright and trademarked items mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. The remaining content is all mine. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without my express written authorization.**

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_**~*~**__** Red**__** ~*~**_

The young Lord tugged at his constricting collar. Carlisle had tied his tie too tight; he would have to reprimand him later. As if the boy needed one more thing to make his night miserable.

His father had forced him to attend the ball this evening, in the hopes that he would find fancy in one of the many suitable single young ladies at the dance tonight. He had been pushing and prodding the young boy for some months now to court a young lady. Any young lady would do, providing she was of the proper social standing.

The young man was almost twenty and his father apparently wanted to see him married off before he reached twenty-one. Which mystified the son because his brother, three years older, was happily unmarried, unencumbered and actually well known for his many dalliances with the young ladies in their social circle. And yet his father had not once prodded his brother into thoughts of marriage. The young man chuckled to himself–perhaps that was the problem; perhaps he just needed to start squiring and whoring around with as many women as possible and maybe that would get his father off of his back.

He was quite the opposite of his brother and frankly had little interest so far in any of the young ladies they knew. He hated the insufferable, copious balls and dinners and teas that his mother and father forced upon him. Because there were invariably young women at these balls and dinners and teas–young ladies who were looking for a husband and the young Lord was "prime property" to put it politely. He came from a wealthy, noble family with an upstanding reputation, and to add insult to injury: he was astonishingly handsome. Had he none of the other aforementioned attributes, young ladies would still be clamoring for him on his beauty, alone. Tall, slim, with a face some women said was sculpted by Michelangelo himself: a strong, sharp jaw line; prominent, high cheekbones; red full lips and piercing green eyes. Add in a most unique head of unruly burnished red- colored hair and any red-blooded female was immediately swept off her feet. His brother often teased him mercilessly about his popularity with the ladies, but the young man hated every minute of it and found it insufferable.

Tonight, as he surveyed the room, he had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes in boredom. This party was just like the party he'd been to last week…and the week before that. Same annoying tinkling waltz music, same young ladies–hair done up, wearing their same sweet pastel frilly dresses and dancing with the other dutiful young men who, like himself, were here out of family obligation. Or who, like his brother, were here staking out their next conquest. Clustered in the corners of the room were more young ladies chittering and twittering and giggling in groups of more drab pastel. And invariably during the course of the evening each group would, at least once, turn their attention to him, whispering and pointing. If he were in an agreeable mood he would sometimes nod to them and tip his drink in acknowledgement. He certainly did not wish to encourage them, however he did like letting them know he'd caught them in the act. Of course even this ever so slight bit of attention from him just sent them twittering amongst themselves even more.

Occasionally a few brave young girls would extricate themselves from their packs and approach him. Tonight's sacrificial lambs were Lady Lauren Mallory and Lady Jessica Stanley. They were both upon him before he had a chance to sneak away into the crowd. His father caught his eye from across the room and raised an encouraging eyebrow at him.

"Lord Masen," Lady Stanley sing-songed. "Are you feeling ill this evening?"

_Well that was a new approach,_ he thought to himself.

Edward, assuming the role of the polite gentleman, bowed slightly toward them before addressing the women. "Good evening ladies. I am feeling quite fine, actually. What, may I ask, made it seem that I was ill?"

"Why, Lord Masen, you haven't been out on the dance floor once this evening, you've been standing alone over here, all by yourself." Lady Mallory's voice was more of a squeak and the young Lord had to grit his teeth to avoid making an unpleasant face at the awful sound.

He sighed. He'd been caught. As much as he detested it, the easiest thing to do would be to take each of the ladies for one spin on the dance floor–it would satisfy both his social obligation and his obligation to his father.

He opened his mouth to ask Lady Stanley for a dance, but before he could get the words out something across the room caught his eye. A flash of red. Such an out of place color amidst all of the pastel dresses and the men's dark formal wear. He looked again but saw nothing. Just as he was about to think he had imagined it, a gentleman moved aside and he saw the source of the red flash.

The woman had her back to him. Her deep brown hair was piled high on her head exposing a long, pale expanse of neck. She was dressed in a red gown that dipped a little too low in the back, revealing more naked skin than most would deem acceptable for society norms. She was exquisite, a vision of absolute beauty.

He rapidly mumbled apologies to Lady Mallory and Lady Stanley and moved off to get a better look at the woman in the red dress. A new dance started up and in the flurry of couples leaving the dance floor and new couples sashaying on, he lost sight of her. When his line of sight cleared finally, she was no longer across the room. He walked the edges of the room, darting in between various partygoers, his eyes constantly searching for a scrap of red.

"…_did you see that harlot in the red dress?"_

He was passing by a group of one of the twittering, gaggling women…his ears pricked up at their words and he paused to listen.

"_So scandalous…and showing so much skin."_

"_Brazen hussy, she is."_

"_She probably didn't have anything else to wear…her line of work certainly doesn't require much clothing!"_

"_You know those Italian men…they prefer those kind of women."_

The Lord scowled at the comments from the gossiping cows. Snooty, supercilious highbrows–condemning a woman simply from the color of the dress she chose to wear.

He moved on, not wanting to appear that he was doing what he was doing–eavesdropping on such busybodies. They mentioned the Italians…was she Italian? Was she with the visiting Italians? That _was_ the reason for this particular party–some Italian aristocrats were visiting the family of one of his parents' acquaintances.

He continued scouring the room more frantically. She seemed to have disappeared again, vanished into thin air. Had it not been for the confirmation from the biddies gossiping about her, he might have thought his numbingly desensitized brain had dreamed her up. Crushed, he was about to abandon his fruitless search, when finally he spied the red beauty again. At the end of the room were ornately etched glass doors leading out to a balcony and he could see her on the other side of the doors, out on the balcony. Through the distorted facets of the glass she truly did appear as if an apparition…no, he thought, more like a work of art. Blurry, smudged brush stokes reflecting only the beauty of light and shadow and color…she was a Degas masterpiece come to life, _Lady in Red, _he imagined the title in his head. And he was not going to let her get away again.

_**~*~O~X~X~O~*~**_


	3. Chapter 3 – Slip

_**The Twilight 25**_

_**Prompt: Slip**_

_**Pen Name: CherBella**_

_**Pairing: EdwardxBella**_

_**Rating: M**_

**All copyright and trademarked items mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. The remaining content is all mine. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without my express written authorization.**

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_**~*~ Slip ~*~**_

He rushed as quickly as he could without arousing suspicion, to the end of the room. He had to get to her before she slipped away again. The balcony door was slightly ajar and without hesitation his hand grasped the handle and threw it open, startling the lady in red on the other side. As she whirled around at the commotion and he finally laid eyes on her for the first time, all breath left his body.

Everything in the young Lord's body stilled as she looked at him…as he looked back at her…trapped by her gaze, by her beauty. Muscles forgot how to move, lungs forgot how to breathe, words could not form. Dark mahogany hair pinned up, a few stray tendrils loose about her perfect alabaster face, pale except for the rouge blush on her cheeks and the luscious red on her perfect plump lips. The graceful curve of her neck leading down to her creamy, almost bare shoulders. And the dress, the treasure he had hunted for all evening–sumptuous red satin flowing from cap sleeves on her shoulders over her breasts and swirling downward to her small waist, draping softly over her curves and falling in waves to the floor. There was beading and other décor highlighting her décolletage, and continuing down the flow of the dress.

The vibrant red was such a beautiful, bold contrast to her creamy, flawless complexion.

He couldn't take his eyes from her. She continued staring at him, expectantly now, waiting on him to explain his explosive entrance.

"I…I'm sorry to disturb you, my Lady. Forgive me for my brash intrusion," he babbled reproachfully.

She lifted her head slightly. "Okay…you're forgiven."

The silence continued.

"Is there something else?" her voice was delicate yet strong, not at all like the squeaky vapid tones of the countless ladies in pastel in the next room. The melodic sound carried through the air and vibrated through every cell of his body. Her voice also held a definite English accent, so whomever she was here with tonight, she was definitely not Italian. His heart soared at that small piece of knowledge.

"I'm sorry…"

"You do apologize a lot." She cut him off before he could finish.

He was still grasping, searching for words. Just being in her presence affected him in a way he was not accustomed. He took a deep breath of the cool night air, and tried again.

"I noticed you out here alone, I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

She raised an eyebrow as if she knew he was lying. "I am fine, thank you, Lord, I simply needed some fresh air and a moment…" she hesitated, her turn now to search for the appropriate, inoffensive word.

"…away from the pompousness? The unbearable pretentiousness? The ignorant insufferable gossips?" He sympathetically finished her statement for her as she just stared at him dumbfounded.

Suddenly her lips curled up into an impish smile and her eyes twinkled in amusement. The sound of her laughter warmed him all over.

"Well…yes, yes and yes, I guess you hit the nail on the proverbial head, as they say."

"I frequently find myself searching for an escape at these events myself, or a quiet place to hide out. When I saw you out here, I immediately recognized a fellow refugee."

She cast her eyes downward as her whole face dimmed. She made a movement toward the other door "I really should be…"

Desperate to keep her from leaving, he stepped closer toward her. "As fellow fugitives from the inanity it is only proper that we introduce ourselves." He bowed his head slightly. "I am Lord Edward Masen."

He immediately reached out his hand to accept hers, as was the etiquette when greeting a lady. She looked uncomfortable at his request but finally acquiesced. She extended her gloved hand and tipped her head as well.

"Isabella Swan, M'lord."

_Isabella. _Grasping her hand in his, he leaned down to place a gentle kiss on her hand. "Lady Swan, it is such a pleasure." _Isabella. _God what an exquisite and fitting name for the stunning creature before him, he thought to himself. _Isabella. _He couldn't get enough of that name; he wanted to shout it from the rooftops.

"Just Isabella, M'Lord…I am no lady," she spoke quietly.

Misconstruing her last statement as humility, he answered her in kind, "And I am just Edward, I've never had any real care for my title, either."

He continued to stare at her in adoration while still holding her gloved hand in his. Even though a layer of silky fabric separated their naked fingers from touching, he felt a current of heat flowing between them and he was reluctant to break it.

He felt a tug from her hand, acknowledgement that he had prolonged the moment longer than was acceptable. But he refused to let her go.

"Isabella, it would honor me greatly if you would accept a dance with me." _Please say yes, please say yes, _his mind pleaded silently.

She sighed resolutely and nodded her head demurely. "As you wish, m'Lor…Edward." She caught herself in the slip and corrected herself, using his first name as he had instructed her.

He grinned broadly and finally let go of her hand so that he could open the door for her. He motioned toward the inside. "After you, Isabella."

As she slipped past him, he lightly placed his hand at her waist to guide her inside and onto the dance floor. A new waltz was just starting. As they turned to face each other, she placed one hand on his shoulder. He grasped her other hand in his and held it up high. His other hand he placed lightly on her back. This time his fingertips did touch her bare skin and the heat, the electricity of the touch was stronger. She felt it too as she shivered and her back arched. He felt her breathe in unsteadily as her eyes darted all around. The pull of his eyes boring into her was eventually too hard to resist as she finally lifted her lashes and looked at him. For a brief moment her eyes widened, betraying her vulnerable emotions. His heart leapt with hope that she was feeling the same way he was. But then the music started and she blinked, turning her gaze away to some point over his shoulder.

They turned and twirled to the tinkling music, round and round, in perfect synchronization, two halves of a complete whole. They were so wrapped up in each other they didn't notice the stares and the whispers–"_Young Lord Masen…dancing with __**her**__!"_

When the song finally ended they were breathing heavily from the exertion and their eyes were shiny as they looked at each other. Again, there was a look of desire and exhilaration on Isabella's face, as Edward's hands remained on her body, holding her as close to him as was acceptable. He was so aware of every part of her body–her head tilted up to gaze at him; her breasts moving up and down with every breath, a bead of sweat trickling down her chest; her hand, even gloved, was damp in his; her full red lips now wet as she nervously licked them. He began to lean down to kiss her, when the mask closed over her face again and she pulled roughly away from his grasp. She bowed gently toward him.

"Thank you for the dance, Lor…Edward." She murmured politely. And then she was gone, slipping away into the crowd again, as the dance floor started to fill up for the next dance. Edward remained rooted in his spot, shocked that she was gone that quick. The music starting up for the new dance and the couples swishing by jostled him out of his trance and he moved off to the side, beginning his frantic search again for his lady in red.

_**~*~O~X~X~O~*~**_

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_**A/N: When I was doing some research to determine exactly what time period I wanted to set this story in, I based it mostly in the style of fashion I pictured Bella wearing. (Alice would be proud I'm sure :) This dress was the basis for Bella's red gown and also gave me the approximate era:**_

_**http://i915**** (dot) photobucket (dot) com/albums/ac359/CherBella09/Twi25%****20images/gown003det (dot) jpg**_

_**The story is set in 1910. It was only after choosing the year that I discovered this time period (lasting from1901 to 1912, 1914 or 1918 depending on the source) was known as the **_**Edwardian****_ Era. Total coincidence, I swear! :) If you're interested in more information, check out the wiki article below or just envision the Titanic movie for visual reference. :)_**

_**http://en**** (dot) wikipedia (dot) org/wiki/Edwardian_era**_


	4. Chapter 4 – Obsession

_**The Twilight 25**_

_**Prompt: Obsession**_

_**Pen Name: CherBella**_

_**Pairing: EdwardxBella**_

_**Rating: M**_

**All copyright and trademarked items mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. The remaining content is all mine. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without my express written authorization.**

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_**A/N: Decided to post this today as part of the informal TwiFandom Reader Appreciation day...for the few of you who are reading and enjoying this little fic you have my heartfelt thanks for taking a chance and going on this journey with me! Thank you!**_

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_**~*~ Obsession ~*~**_

Edward's eyes prowled the room, passing over each and every crowd, every couple, every body, searching for the goddess in the red dress. _Isabella. Is-a-bel-la, _her name reverberated in his mind over and over and over, each syllable syncing in perfect time with the beats of his heart.

She was nowhere to be seen but he refused to believe that she had left the party. He began hunting through the adjoining rooms and halls, receiving many a curious look, but he could care less. At the moment she was his only thought. He turned a corner and immediately ducked back, hoping he wasn't seen. From the number of women gathered in the hallway, he had apparently come upon the ladies' powder room. He listened to the voices receding down the hallway; once they were gone he continued back around the corner to continue his search.

Suddenly, there she was…coming out of the powder room and heading down the hallway in the same direction as the other women. He took a deep breath as he was frozen in place watching her graceful body as it moved away from him.

_Away from him…_ Quickly he snapped himself out of his daze. _Catch her you idiot before she disappears again!_

He strode down the hall and called after her, "Isabella!"

She hesitated and then finally turned. "Edward?"

He smiled in relief but her expression was hard to read. She kept her face impassive and simply stood there waiting for him to catch up to her.

"I'm so glad we ran into each other again…" he stammered the first words that came into his brain.

His words caused her eyes to narrow as she cocked her head, a bemused smile stretching across her face.

"In the corridor to the _ladies'_ powder room? Yes _quite_ unexpected to run into each other here…or do you frequent that room often?"

Beautiful _and _witty…he stared at her in delight and awe. _Such a captivating creature _he thought. He finally bowed his head humbly, a blush creeping across his cheeks.

"Um…er…okay, you got me. I do not frequent the ladies' powder room and in fact have never been in said room. I willingly admit I have actually been looking for you. You ran off so quickly after our dance…"

At his words, her smile disappeared again. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have danced with you…"

Edward's heart sank. "And why not? Did I do something wrong? If I did, please tell me so that I can make amends.""

Her face softened. "No, you…the dance…were both lovely. But you…you don't want to be seen with me, Edward." She bowed her head, casting her eyes downward.

Unable to stop himself, he reached his hand out and tipped her face up so that she was forced to look at him. "And why wouldn't I want to be seen with you?" He whispered softly.

She sighed, and there was a tone of resignation in her voice. "I am sure you have heard… clearly I don't belong here."

_Those insensitive old biddies,_ he fumed to himself. _Making this beautiful woman feel so out of place._

"_We cannot control the evil tongues of others; but a good life enables us to disregard them*._" She stared at him blankly so he continued on, "Isabella, I do not pay their words one ounce of truth. They are simply jealous of your grace and your beauty."

"No you don't understand…" she started to protest but he immediately placed his finger upon her lips to silence her.

"No Isabella, we shall not give any more credence to false words."

"You are too kind, Edward, thank you…but I really must go…" She turned again to go but his hand shot out and grasped her arm, a little too tightly. She glanced down at her arm then back at him, a look of shock on her face. He immediately let go but he couldn't ignore the warm tingling sensation still lingering in his fingers from where they had touched her arm.

"Please don't go yet…" he tried to hide the embarrassingly pleading tone in his voice.

They were at the end of the hallway and while she hadn't moved to leave yet, she tensed up and her eyes seemed to be darting around nervously as if looking for something…or someone. He spied a set of open doors leading out to another balcony and he frantically gestured towards them.

"Why don't we step outside for a bit of fresh air?"

At the sight of the balcony, her shoulders relaxed and she finally agreed. He politely let her walk ahead of him and once outside they both quietly stood with their hands on the railing–not speaking as they looked out into the night sky. Well, she looked out at the sky, Edward's eyes were still trained on her, drinking her in. The moonlight cast a cool, blue tint across her features, transforming her from the Degas painting of earlier into now, a flawless, marble sculpture. She lifted her face up to the heavens and closed her taking in a deep breath of air and releasing it.

"It's a beautiful night," Edward broke the silence, immediately chastising himself for not coming up with something wittier to say.

"Yes, it is." She responded, still gazing out at the stars. A light breeze was blowing and Isabella shivered, drawing her arms closer to her body.

Edward immediately started pulling off his coat. "How inconsiderate of me to bring you out into the cool night air. Here, take my coat, I insist." Before she could protest he had it draped over her shoulders. She turned toward him as she clutched it around her, and looked up at him from under her long lashes.

"Thank you."

They continued staring at each other for a moment…or two…or three.

Finally she sighed, "Edward, why are you out here with me?"

He frowned in puzzlement. "Why am I …"

"Why are you out here with me instead of inside dancing with one of the dozens of young ladies who are far more appropriate for you than I? I saw how they all look at you…you could have your pick of any one of them."

He had been maintaining a gentlemanly respectable distance from her, but now in disbelief at her words he stepped closer, never moving his eyes from hers.

"Why do you constantly put yourself down? I don't want any of those other insipid girls. There is no place on this earth I would rather be than standing here with you. _I want you_." He whispered the last three words huskily as he reverently drew his fingers to her cheek, tracing down her jaw line.

Edward felt such a strong connection to her…a connection he couldn't explain. The look on her face when he spoke those three words–_I want you_–and her reaction to his touch revealed that she too felt the same strong connection. Her lips parted and her eyelids fluttered shut momentarily as the feel of his hand stroking her face, the intense heat from his touch, overwhelmed her.

His heart soared and he took another step forward, needing to be closer to her…at the same moment she opened her eyes and took a step backward to put more distance between them. Her body stiffened and the mask closed over her face again, her eyes dulling, her jaw tightening.

"You can't want me Edward…you don't even know the real me."

His brow furrowed in confusion as he just stared at her, perplexed. She was a beautiful, bewitching mystery. When she let her guard down he could tell she was feeling the same strange connection he was…but then she would close up and pull away from him. If she was feeling as strongly as he was, he didn't understand how or why she was so reserved.

Before Edward could even try to figure out why she was being so cryptic, he heard heavy footsteps at the doorway and a strong smell of alcohol and cigars permeated the fresh night air.

"Signorina Swan." A cold deep monotone voice spoke. Edward turned to see two rather hard looking men in black–one not much bigger than he, and the other, so tall and massive he towered over all of them. He recognized them as part of the visiting Italian contingent, as he had been briefly introduced to them earlier in the evening. Viscount Aro Volturi was currently in England as the guest of Lord Newton and he had arrived with numerous courtiers and attendants. These two henchmen in front of them were among those with him. Felix and Demetri, were their names, if Edward remembered correctly.

"Visconte Volturi has been impatiently asking for you, He sent us to find you."

There was a definite tone of demand, not request, to their words, and they did not move from their spots. They were clearly not leaving without the "signorina."

Isabella cast her eyes downward. "I have to go," she spoke, only loudly enough for Edward to hear. She slipped Edward's coat from her shoulders and handed it back to him silently. Then without looking up at him she turned to leave with the men. They moved aside to let her pass, then closed ranks in behind her. They both gave Edward one last, cold, hard stare before following behind Isabella.

Edward frowned. _Okay so she was with the Italians in some capacity, _he thought to himself…she didn't look very happy about it though. He started to put his coat back on and was assaulted with her scent. He paused and lifted the collar to his nose and inhaled deeply, closing his eyes in bliss, in want, in need, of this beautiful lady. He refused to give up–somehow, someway…she would be _his_.

_**~*~O~*~X~*~O~*~  
**_

Back in the ballroom, Edward didn't have to search long this time for Isabella. The Viscount had his arm around her waist, holding her tightly to his side while he conversed with the other Italians in his group. Bella's face remained impassive, making it impossible for Edward to read what she was feeling or thinking at the moment.

Edward felt something building within him. As he watched the Viscount next pull her onto the dance floor, it threatened to bubble over…his blood began to boil and he realized it was rage and jealousy he was feeling. The Viscount pressed her body tightly to his as they danced, more tightly than was proper. He seethed as he watched that man touch her and hold her and kiss her cheek…in ways that only he himself should be touching her and kissing her. Granted, he had no claim on her–but he wanted to. He wanted her to be his and only his.

To twist the knife in his heart even more, Isabella was smiling at the Viscount. Was she…enjoying being with him? After the dance and the moment they had shared together? He refused to believe that she hadn't felt the physical connection, the chemistry between the two of them.

_**~*~O~*~X~*~O~*~**_

The young Lord watched the young lady in red obsessively for the rest of the night. His eyes constantly staring at her, following every move she made–every move that was apparently controlled by the Viscount, as she never left his side again. And the Viscount–continually running his hand down her cheek, caressing her arm, grazing the small of her back with his fingers. He clenched and unclenched his hands, seething with jealousy. It was all the young Lord could do to control himself from tearing across the room and ripping the Viscount limb from limb. He did not know what it was about this particular woman that had him so anxious and restless…no one had ever affected him this way.

All night long she haunted his thoughts. He couldn't even dream of her because he could not sleep. His brain couldn't stop trying to figure out her story. Her accent was British, not Italian, so she was at least originally from England…did she live in Italy? Did she travel here from Italy with the Viscount? That would explain why he had never seen her before tonight…but what if she wasn't from Italy? Could it be possible, could his luck actually be that good that she might live here, in London? And if she did…then how did she and the Viscount meet? They certainly seemed very "comfortable" with each other, for two people who may have just met.

By morning's light, his brain was exhausted from no sleep and all of the thoughts swirling around in his head…but he finally concocted a plan. He needed to find out more about her but had to be careful how he went about it. His father had already admonished him on the way home for not dancing with any other young ladies at the ball.

His personal valet had been with him since he was very young, and the man often went above and beyond the duties of a valet for the young boy–he had become a confidant, a father figure of sorts for a young man who could not turn to his own rigid father for advice or support. The valet was sympathetic for the young boy, stuck in a life he didn't really fit into, and with a father who didn't really understand him or show him the type of love he needed.

When the valet came into the young lord's room to rouse him the morning after the ball he was already up, staring out the window, his bed not even slept in; he had dark circles under his eyes, illustrating the toll his sleepless night had taken. Despite what his father and the rest of the world saw from the young lord, his valet was the only person who knew how truly lonely the young boy had been for so many years. For so long he had yearned for love, yearned to meet a young lady whom his soul would connect with, who would love him as much as he loved her.

And so it was his valet that the boy poured his heart out to–he told him everything about the ball… seeing _her_ and dancing with _her_ and touching _her_ and talking to _her_. And how she spent the majority of the evening with another. He implored his valet to help him find her, to find out more about her. The older man could see both the torture and the excitement in the young man's eyes…emotions he had never seen from him before. The boy had waited so long for this, that the man dared not dissuade him from his feelings…but secretly something told the valet this would not end well.

_**~*~O~*~X~*~O~*~**_

Carlisle had worked for the Masen family for many, many years, in several capacities. When little Edward was finally of the age to have his own personal valet, the elder Lord Masen asked Carlisle to serve in the position and he accepted it with honor. He felt a great responsibility in being trusted to attend to the youngest Lord Masen. However, he could not have known then just how much Edward would come to rely on him as the years would pass. Edward was the more sensitive, emotional child of the two Masen children and Edward's father could not relate to him in the way he needed. He needed someone to lean on, someone to look to for advice and support. Carlisle felt empathy for the poor boy and, when he could, tried to be there for Edward when he needed a sympathetic ear or just simply a friend. And so, it was only natural that the only person Edward could trust with this latest task was Carlisle. And while he felt a bit uneasy about Edward's request, he accepted the task out of compassion and empathy for the boy.

It took a couple days of Carlisle sleuthing what he could, asking questions of other servants he knew from other manors. When a few leads pointed to the city, Edward gave him a fake errand to do for him in the city so that Carlisle could drive into London and inquire about the beautiful woman there.

What he found out only increased his unease about this heartbreaking union.

_**~*~O~*~X~*~O~*~**_

Returning at twilight from London, Carlisle entered Edward's room to find him pacing the floorboards. As soon as Edward heard him, he spun around.

"Well…were you able to find any more information?"

Carlisle did not answer and the look of guilty hesitation on his face gave him away.

Edward rushed across the room and grabbed Carlisle roughly about the shoulders. "You found something! You did! Why aren't you saying anything, Carlisle…" he growled out the manservant's name in frustration. "Tell me NOW!"

Carlisle gripped Edward and pulled out of his grasp. "Lord Edward! Get a grip sir and sit down first…"

Edward reluctantly sat, perched impatiently on the edge of a chair, while Carlisle relayed what he had discovered.

Miss Isabella Swan _was_ from London, not Italy and she had not returned there with the Viscount. But despite Edward's protestations and his vehement denials, it appeared the gossiping women at the ball were actually correct about many things. Miss Swan was a commoner, and worked at an upscale Gentleman's Club. A club that not only served alcohol and provided men a place to gather, but also a club that discreetly provided certain "services" and "pleasures" to the wealthy and noble men who frequented the establishment. Viscount Volturi had spent an evening at the club, where he met Miss Swan and apparently was so taken with her he hired her to accompany him to the ball that night.

"Whatever else may have occurred, sir, I do not know; I was not able to see Miss Swan as I, of course, a servant, would not have been granted admittance into the club."

Edward sat motionless, and were it not for the fire building in his eyes, anyone passing by would never have known he had just found out such disheartening information. Concerned, Carlisle placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm very sorry, Edward."

Edward drew himself up straight and turned to look at Carlisle, his eyes narrowed and dark, blazing with emotion. "Pull the car around. We're going to London." As Carlisle hesitated, he barked his order at him: "NOW!"

_**~*~O~X~X~O~*~**_

* * *

_***Edward is reciting an ancient quote from Cato the Elder, a famous Roman statesman.**_


	5. Chapter 5 – Rapacious

_**The Twilight 25**_

_**Prompt: Rapacious**_

_**Pen Name: CherBella**_

_**Pairing: EdwardxBella**_

_**Rating: M**_

**All copyright and trademarked items mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. The remaining content is all mine. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without my express written authorization.**

* * *

**A/N: Okay while I consider myself fairly literate I am not ashamed to admit this was the one prompt I had to look up the definition:**

**ra·pa·cious **–adjective

1. given to seizing for plunder or the satisfaction of greed.

2. inordinately greedy; predatory; extortionate: a rapacious disposition.

—Synonyms

ravenous, voracious, grasping; preying.

**Hopefully that will help explain Edward's behavior in this chapter.  
**

**More A/N info at the end.**

* * *

_**~*~ Rapacious ~*~**_

Edward was silent the entire trip into London, staring blankly out the car window. In fact, he had not uttered another word since ordering Carlisle to drive him to London. Carlisle left him alone with his thoughts but couldn't deny his curiosity about what those thoughts were. He had never seen Edward like this before and this deeply concerned him because he had no clue what Edward's state of mind was at the moment.

When the car finally stopped and the motor turned off there was an empty silence. They were parked across the street from a nondescript brick building with a small, simple wooden sign above the front door, _The Black Swan_.

After several minutes, Carlisle cleared his throat before speaking, "We're here sir."

Edward still said nothing, just continued staring out the window from the back seat of the car. His emotions were raging and they all centered around Isabella. He was furious, hurt, devastated, disappointed…and elated. Yes there was a part of his heart that was near bursting with joy that he had found her and that she was here, just beyond the doors of that brick building. But right now there was a bigger part of him that raged–raged because she _was_ so near , raged that she had not been truthful with him, raged that she…really worked at such a place.

Edward had spent the entire car ride into the city rolling the information from Carlisle over and over in his brain. He had ordered Carlisle to drive here with no thought as to what to do once he actually got here–which left him now sitting frozen in the car, staring at the disreputable business across the street that held the woman of his obsession.

Carlisle turned his head to face him across the front seatback. "Edward?"

Edward still sat unmoving. Minutes passed that felt like hours as his mind battled with the choices. Several times he opened his mouth to tell Carlisle to turn around and take him home but he just couldn't utter the words. He kept telling himself he should just forget about her…but he knew it was too late. He needed to see her, to touch her again… and he needed answers.

Before he was even aware of what he was doing, his body was moving, out of the car, every footstep taking him across the street, closer and closer to her.

"Edward!" Carlisle yelled out after him in futility. It was clear that any warnings he might impart would be of no use now. The boy had been fighting with his thoughts, sorting things out, and a decision–whether good or bad–had just been made.

_**~*~O~*~X~*~O~*~**_

The trip from the car to the front steps of the gentleman's club felt surreal but as soon as Edward stepped inside reality descended upon him. His heart hammered in his chest and he broke out into a sweat.

A young woman in a tight corseted dress, her breasts almost overflowing her low-cut neckline, greeted him and took his coat. Another similarly dressed woman led him to a table and yet another young lady came to take his drink order and to inquire if there was anything else he might be "interested in" this evening. He declined politely, ordering a gin and tonic only. He sat down and his eyes began to roam around the room. It was a rather lush, rich environment. High ceilings; deep dark mahogany wood everywhere–the walls, the floorboards, the shiny, varnished bar in the left corner of the room. There were a few large round tables in the middle of the room, and one of them was inhabited by a group of men playing poker, the cigar smoke swirling thickly around them.

Along the walls were small curved booths with high wooden "walls" extending from the plush red velvet cushions of the seatbacks. The high backs provided the booths with an intimate privacy. To complete the ambience, the room was dimly lit with only small lamps burning along the walls and on the tables.

Edward had actually been here once before, on his eighteenth birthday. His older brother, Emmett had told him that he had a special present for him. Edward thought they were simply going out for the evening for a bit of brotherly bonding until Emmett brought him here. Before Edward realized what was going on, his "gift" appeared at the table–Emmett had purchased the "services" of one of the young ladies for Edward. As Edward stared in shock, Emmett clapped him on his back and told him that now that he was a "man" of eighteen it was time he was "educated in the pleasures of being a man."

Edward was appalled and shocked and scared all at the same time. And yet he found himself blindly following the buxom strawberry-blonde as she pulled him up the stairs to a private room. She told him her name was Tanya and she was going to take very good care of him. He was timid and his heart was pounding but Tanya was persistent with her advances and Edward soon weakened under her spell, giving into her womanly wiles. Later he couldn't deny how amazing that night had been, but he still felt shamed that he had been with such a "lady" as she.

Edward shook his head of those memories and rubbed his hands tiredly over his face. Thinking of that night just enraged him more because all he could think of was Isabella…Isabella with other men, doing to them the things Tanya had done to him…doing those things with the Italian Viscount. Those thoughts running through his mind just inflamed him even further. He found himself gripping the tabletop so hard his knuckles were pure white and his heart was racing. He drew in a few deep breaths to try and calm himself down before he completely exploded.

It was with great luck that Edward had been given one of the more secluded booths in the back corner of the room opposite from the bar. He of course did not need the privacy afforded by the booth as he was not here to partake of any of the "perks" offered at the club, but the booth gave him an easy, half-hidden vantage point to easily spy on the room and its inhabitants.

There were numerous women, all garishly made up and dressed in bright colored gowns. Many skirts obviously modified with cutaways up to the thigh to purposely allow stocking-ed legs to show, many corsets pulled extra tight to "enhance" already ample breasts. They flitted about from booth to booth, man to man. Eventually one would lure a man up the stairs. Some of them tried to faun over Edward but he would wave them away, dismissing them with barely a fleeting look. It only took a glance to see that they weren't Isabella and she was the only woman he was there to see.

Half an hour passed and Edward was getting impatient. Combing the room, his eyes flicking immediately to movements of the other patrons. None were Isabella.

Just as a small part of him began to wish and hope that maybe she wasn't here, that maybe Carlisle's sources of information were wrong…he found her. She emerged through a doorway behind the bar and it was like every fiber, every cell in his body knew she was in the room before he even looked. She was dressed a bit more modestly than the other girls and where the others wore at least part of their hair down, all of her hair was pinned up. She immediately started busying herself behind the bar, cleaning, pouring drinks, counting money. He watched her for quite a while, noticing that she was the one the other girls seemed to report to with drink orders and before and after every "upstairs encounter." She also corresponded with the male patrons on their way out for the evening, settling up their tab and accepting their money. She never ventured forth from behind the bar and she never searched any of the male patrons out as the other girls did.

This mystified Edward the more and more he watched her, until finally his curiosity could take no more. The next time one of the other girls came near, he signaled her over. She pasted a leering smile on her face as she sauntered toward him but he never took his eyes off of Isabella.

"Excuse me, miss…the lady at the bar –might she be available for a few minutes? I would like to speak with her."

The girl's smile faded and one of her eyebrows rose in question, as her eyes scanned him from top to bottom. She turned and walked away without a word, but Edward didn't care if he had offended her. He watched her talk with Isabella, watched her point over to him in gesture. And he watched as Isabella looked up and saw him. Her eyes widened as she stared at him for a few seconds, before saying something to the girl and then turning around, away from Edward.

The girl came back over to Edward's booth.

"I'm sorry sir, she's not available this evening," she paused to draw her finger along Edward's cheek. "I'm sure that I could help you out with anything you might need…"

Edward grimaced and jerked his face away from her clammy touch. "No…thank you." He tipped his glass up and threw back the rest of the gin in his glass, feeling it burn on the way down. He slammed it back down on the table and she jumped at the noise, backing off and slowly moving away from him with a look on her face like he was unbalanced.

He sat for another hour, watching her and quietly seething inside, trying to figure out why she refused him. She never looked his way again, and she never availed her self to any other men.

He finally got up and stalked out, leaving money on the table for his drinks so that he wouldn't have to settle his tab with her on his way out, since she so obviously didn't want to speak to him.

He slammed the door as he got in the car and ordered Carlisle to head home. Like the drive to town, this one was equally as quiet as Edward said not a word and again spent the time mulling his thoughts over in his head.

When they were finally back at the house in Edward's room and Carlisle was helping him off with his coat, Carlisle finally tried to get something out of him.

"Not meaning to intrude, Edward but…did you see her tonight?"

"Yes." Edward said tersely, refusing to offer anymore than that one word. "It's late, and you have gone beyond duty, taking me to London tonight. You are dismissed for the night Carlisle."

Carlisle finished hanging up his coat and then nodded toward Edward. "As you wish, good night Edward."

He was almost out the door when he heard Edward speak again, quietly.

"Thank you Carlisle…for everything."

_**~*~O~*~X~*~O~*~**_

Edward spent the rest of the night sleepless, tossing and turning and trying to figure out what to do. He again kept telling himself he needed to forget her as she was obviously doing so of him…but he just couldn't shake her. She was already under his skin, in his blood…fused with him somehow. He felt something so strong with her that he refused to believe that she could not be his.

He returned to the club every night that week. Each night was spent the same as the first, sitting alone in a booth sipping his drink and watching her, watching every move she made.

She never looked in his direction. She worked behind the bar night after night and never left with any men. Sometimes she would disappear into the back for a while and one of the other girls would take over the bar. She always went and returned alone, but that didn't mean she wasn't meeting a male "customer" in the back, or upstairs.

Whenever she left, his blood would heat up, and his hands would clench into fists. The longer she was gone the more incensed he would get, breathing heavily through gritted teeth, while his imagination ran wild. Just the thought of her with another man's…filthy hands on her body…unleashed a green-eyed monster in him that was almost impossible to control.

One specific night she was particularly busy, in and out from the bar constantly, sometimes for a few minutes, sometimes for much longer. Edward sat there for hours watching…and drinking…watching and drinking. When she left the bar again for the tenth time, Edward couldn't take anymore, and left, stalking out the door into the clear air of night. Furious, he took in deep gulps of the crisp air, helping to sober him up and clear his head.

He slammed the car door behind him as he settled into the seat. Carlisle began to start the car up when Edward called out to him.

"No, Carlisle!"

Carlisle turned his head around to face him. "Edward?" he asked in a confused tone.

"Just…wait. I'm not ready to go home yet."

And so they sat in the parked car for a few more hours. Edward silent and staring out into the dark night, his eyes trained on the gentleman's club.

Carlisle saw a strange, wild look in his eye and was concerned that Edward was slipping over the edge of sanity. Spending night after night after night at this club…he still did not know what was happening inside, Edward would not speak of what went on, so he did not know if Edward had even talked to the woman.

Just as he was starting to nod off to sleep, Edward's voice broke into his consciousness.

"Carlisle! Start the car…and follow her." Bleary-eyed he looked out and saw a stunning young woman exiting the club and walking north up the street. He turned the car around and followed her slowly, at a discreet distance. She walked for about seven blocks, the neighborhood changing to a more dirtier, working class section of London as she walked. She finally stopped in front of a seedy looking bar called the Blue Lantern. She rounded the corner of the building and walked up an outside staircase to a nondescript door on the second floor of the old brick building.

Carlisle stopped the car and they watched as she fiddled with the door and then disappeared inside. One of the windows soon glowed yellow from an inside light being turned on.

Just like at the club, Edward sat there staring up at the door. Carlisle gave him some time but he was still worried about Edward. This couldn't go on, it wasn't healthy. He was about to just start the car up and head home, regardless of however Edward might protest, but before he got the chance Edward suddenly bolted out of the car, slamming the door and stalking over to the building.

_**~*~O~*~X~*~O~*~**_

Bella jumped at the sound of someone pounding on her apartment door. She hurried out of the bathroom, pulling her tea gown closed around her. It was the wee hours of the morning, whomever could be at her door at this time of night? She began to tense up in fear, hoping something wasn't wrong with one of the girls…or that it wasn't some vagrant or crook looking for more trouble.

Her hand on the doorknob she wisely paused first. "Who's there?"

"It's Edward, Isabella…Edward Masen."

Her eyes widened, she sighed in both relief and exasperation. She had seen him, night after night at the club, the girls had complained that he didn't seem interested in them, that all he did was sit there and drink…and stare at her. She didn't know what he wanted or why he was persisting. Or how he even found out where she lived.

She opened the door just enough to peek her face around.

"Edward, it is late, what do you want at this hour?"

Edward was dumbfounded for a moment at finally seeing her face mere inches from his, but then her words registered with him. _What did he want? What did he WANT?_

Without processing what he was doing he pushed on the door, forcing her to stumble backward. He slammed the door behind him.

"What do I _want?_ I want answers! Why did you not tell me the truth about who you were and why you were at the ball that night? Why have you not spoken to me at the club? Every night I have been there…to see _you_, to talk to _you_!"

She had not said a word yet, just continued watching him with wary eyes, as he unleashed his tirade upon her. Her silence was maddening to Edward and it only made his fury grow more heated.

He grasped her arms roughly, and she gasped…from fear or from the current that shot through their skin when they touched he did not know.

"You have been haunting me every day, every night since we danced. Since I held you in my arms. I haven't slept; I haven't been able to think of anything or anyone else. But _you_." His voice was low and thick with a menacing, desperate need.

He shook her and then pulled her roughly to him. Her breathing was picking up and he could see from the rise and fall of her chest that her heart was racing. The room was silent as they stared into each other's eyes, neither willing to budge, but desire obviously flowing between them. Their faces were so close he felt her warm breath blow across his lips. Finally she looked away and started to tug her arms from his grip, but he only tightened his hold and crashed his lips to hers in a brutal, forceful kiss of lust and passion. Her struggle against his hold was soon forgotten as her lips lit up in flames. They responded of their own accord to his lips and began molding to his and moving in reaction. When she felt his tongue pressing insistently she parted her lips and he invaded her warm mouth, plundering every inch. She moaned and it caused him to break away. The heart of the green-eyed monster that was in him rejoiced at the sound she was making…for _him_.

His hands were now on her lower back pressing her even tighter into his body. "You _do _feel it too don't you?" he whispered. He could feel her whole body quivering. "Then why, why do you _ignore_ me?" He pushed her backward, against the wall. She cried out as she made contact with the hard surface. He rubbed his cheek against hers and down her throat, inhaling her scent as he went, letting it intoxicate him. "Night after night after fucking night…God! Watching you, wondering what you were doing when you disappeared from the bar…going into the "back room" were you? What do you _do_ back there, Isabella, hmm? Or maybe you were slipping upstairs with one of your 'customers?'" He began nipping painfully at her throat and pressing his body harder against her.

She could feel the heat from his entire body through the thin fabric of her gown, and it lit her body on fire. She felt his hardness rubbing against her abdomen and the flames curled and licked, spreading quickly throughout her lower body…igniting an ache she hadn't felt in so long. She was helpless at quelling her body's reaction to him and she tried to hold back but a needy whimper escaped as he continued his assault down the v of her skin left exposed by the top of her gown.

Edward was tightly wound, and hearing her whimper made something in him snap. Finally having her in his arms, feeling her soft, warm, body so close to his unhinged him, releasing something in him he didn't even know was there. His body reacted so primally, so urgently to her…he felt like there was a current surging throughout him, charging him up.

He snarled, "Do you like this? Do you like me touching you?" He moved his face up again so that his mouth was next to her ear and he spoke in a low, rough tone. "Do you feel what you do to me? Can you tell how much I need you?"

There was a small table right next to where they were standing against the wall. Suddenly he lifted her and swung her over to the table and sat her down on it, moving his body between her legs. The table wobbled and there was a crashing sound of something falling to the floor.

Her silk tea gown was now all tangled and twisted between them and before he knew it he was ripping it, tearing at the fabric to get it out of the way. Isabella gripped the edge of the table with both hands to steady herself against the force of him as her wide eyes stared at him in shock. His eyes bore down on her, dark and fueled by desire and…anger? They were crazed and feral…and she knew she should be frightened, but instead she just hungered for him even more.

Edward looked down for a moment at her body, hidden now only by a camisole slip in a lightweight material. He could see her nipples, hard and straining against the fabric. Her breathing was still erratic, her chest heaving. He looked down at his hands, unbelieving that they had just ripped her gown to pieces. Shaking, he felt like he was not in control of what his body chose to do at this moment. He looked up to see her eyes wide and staring at him. And his fury began to build even more. He grabbed her slip roughly and ripped that as well. She gasped as his eyes raked hungrily over her exposed breasts.

He greedily grasped one in his hand, kneading and massaging it and pinching the dusky, hardened nipple. Her head lolled backward and her eyes fluttered shut as she bit her lip to repress another moan. He moved his face right up to hers again as he continued touching and playing with her breasts.

"You like that don't you? How many men have touched these breasts, hmm, Isabella? Did the Viscount touch them? Did you let his filthy hands defile your beautiful body Isabella?"

Her eyelids snapped open and anger now flashed in her dark eyes, as she started struggling and squirming against him. Her hands were pushing against his shoulders, but that just seemed to egg him on more.

He ripped what was left of the slip and it fell away, exposing her entire body to him. He trailed his fingers down her stomach, along her thighs. He thrust his fingers into her, swirling them in and out of her slick, warm wetness. She gripped his shoulders and could not control her moans at the shockwaves ripping through her body. Her hips moved of their own accord pressing herself against his fingers.

He watched her, under him, as she reacted to his touch. He saw the veins straining in her neck; her eyes closed; her lips red from biting them; her creamy skin, red and flushed. His own body was at its limits, every muscle taut and straining, wanting, needing more. It was almost painful how hard he was; he had to be inside her, surrounded by her, _now_. He withdrew his wet fingers from her. With record speed he unfastened his trousers and pushed her legs apart roughly and thrust his entire length into her at once. She cried out and he paused for a moment until he felt her clutching at him, her legs wrapping around him and pulling him even closer. His last vestige of control was shattered and he began thrusting into her as swiftly and deeply as he could.

Isabella was moaning and arching into him, shuddering and taking all of him in. _He_ was doing that to her, _he_ was the one drawing those sounds from her. But just as he triumphed at those thoughts, the green-eyed monster reared its head again.

"My God Isabella you feel so exquisite, so warm and wet around me…have the other men made you feel like this, Isabella, hmm? Have they ever aroused you this much, have they made you scream like this?" He punctuated his hurtful words with wilder, even deeper thrusts, and all she could do was gasp and claw at his back, ripping his shirt in several places.

His voice was raspy and snarling again. "Did the Viscount make you feel this good, did he know just how to fill you up and bring you such pleasure, hmm, Isabella? Answer me Isabella!"

Her answer was one last scream as she shook and shuddered around him. This drew him over the edge as well, and he roared as he thrust a few more times before exploding inside her. Their bodies slumped against each other, spent and sated, their chests heaving. She was reclining against the wall and his hands were on each side of her, on the table holding himself up. As their breathing finally calmed she began to speak, quietly.

"I did try, several times that evening at the ball, to warn you, to tell you what I was. I tried to tell you that you shouldn't be with me but you would not listen, you _refused_ to listen! _You_ were the one who assumed that all of the…gossip…about me was false."

There was a catch in her voice, but she continued on, never wavering. "Yes the Viscount came into the club and took a liking to me and yes he hired me to attend the ball with him, but that was as far as it went. I made an exception even going with him, because of who he was and how much money he offered. He knew upfront there would be…nothing else. I own the club now and I haven't had to…well…" she paused and her posture stiffened before she continued. "I don't have to be beholden to any man ever again."

As the color drained from Edward's face at the reality of her words, she reached up and slapped him across the face. She pushed him away and gathered up what was left of her clothing around her, as she looked him one last time in the eye. Her eyes were hard and her face expressionless. "Now get out." And she slipped down off the table and rushed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

**_~*~O~X~X~O~*~_**

* * *

**A/N: I've been in a bit of "writing fail" the past few weeks and haven't written nearly as much as I should have. This chapter also seemed to take forever to write itself. So obviously I am not going to be finishing this by the Twilight 25 challenge deadline (next week!). I will however continue the story using the same prompts and parameters. So not to worry Edward and Isabella are not done yet! :)**

**The tea gown that Bella is wearing is more like what we would consider a robe or dressing gown. Some Google searching mainly referenced a tea gown as an actual simply-made dress worn for afternoon gatherings. However the book I took this image from called this type of "robe-like" garment also a tea gown. Picture of it here if you're curious:**

**http://i915**** . Photobucket . ****com/albums/ac359/CherBella09/Twi25%20images/Bellas_tea_gown . jpg**


	6. Chapter 6 – Alone

_**A/N: Finally Chap. 6! I know it has been a long time since Chap. 5. I had some catching up to do on some other fics and RL stuff after concentrating on this fic during Twi25. I am sincerely hoping future updates to be more frequent, as I'm going to trade off back and forth between this and my other WIP.**_

**All copyright and trademarked items mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. The remaining content is all mine. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without my express written authorization.**

* * *

_Previously: _

_As the color drained from Edward's face at the reality of her words, she reached up and slapped him across the face. She pushed him away and gathered up what was left of her clothing around her, as she looked him one last time in the eye. Her eyes were hard and her face expressionless. "Now get out." And she slipped down off the table and rushed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her._

* * *

_**~*~ Alone ~*~**_

"Your bath is ready, Edward."

Edward turned his head in Carlisle's direction but his eyes didn't meet the older man's. They were dull and unseeing.

"Thank you, that will be all, Carlisle. You can go now." The words he spoke were raspy and low, barely audible.

Carlisle pivoted on his heel, but hesitated, looking back at the distressed young man. "Are you okay Edward? If you'd like to talk . . . ."

"Please Carlisle, just go. I'm fine."

Carlisle knew he wasn't fine. He had seen Edward walk out of that building tonight and what he saw scared him. Edward's jacket hung off his shoulders haphazardly, his shirt unbuttoned. His hair was a mess and the expression on his face was one of a tortured man in shock. He'd half-stalked, half-stumbled toward the car, and when he got in, he collapsed heavily against the seat. He leaned his head back against the seatback and closed his eyes and ordered Carlisle to take him home. He'd not said one more word the entire ride.

Carlisle was worried about him, but he also knew it wasn't his place to pry. Edward would come to him when he was ready, he always did. Edward was one who needed to work his problems and thoughts around and around in his head until it drove him mad, and then he usually would come to Carlisle for reassurance and counsel.

"As you wish. Good night Edward."

_**~*~O~X~O~*~**_

Edward sat staring straight ahead in the full tub, the water quickly turning cold. He kept hearing her voice, her words in his head, over . . . and over . . . and over_. I don't have to be beholden to any man ever again._ All this time he had imagined her with all those men from the bar, had imagined her with the Viscount—and she hadn't been with any of them.

He was repulsed and ashamed of his actions tonight. Ashamed of all the things he had assumed about her and all the vile things he'd said to her. And repulsed at the way he just . . . _took_ her. He couldn't believe how he lost such control. But there was something about her. The minute he saw her, the minute he breathed in her air; he lost himself, he lost all sense of reason. There was only . . . _her_. He needed to _touch_ her, to _feel_ her, to _be_ with her.

But to do so, so forcefully . . . thinking about it again caused his contemptible male body to react. He leapt out of the tepid water and ran to the sink basin, retching and sputtering, sick at what he'd done tonight and sick that it aroused him so.

When he finished he sat on the vanity chair nearby. He couldn't get his mind to shut off, remembering . . . the feel of her creamy, velvet skin, the feel of her moist lips on his. And then . . . despite how forceful he was with her, the way her lips molded and moved with his, the way her body arched into his, the way she gasped and moaned for him.

He stood up and his stomach convulsed again, heaving and expelling all that he had in him until there was no more. Still breathing heavily he leaned his forehead against the cool wall. She'd _wanted_ him. She'd protested at first but the way her body had given in, had taken him in, _all_ of him. The way she clutched and clung to him, and shuddered around him. _Dear God, _the way he treated her and yet—she still wanted him.

And then he remembered afterward—the hard look in her eye, the things she said, the slap to his face. He glanced up into the mirror, his left cheek still tinged with red from her powerful hand. He certainly deserved everything she threw at him and then some.

_Now get out. _Her last words kept repeating and reverberating in his brain. The tone in her voice was hard and cold . . . and final.

His heart plummeted in his chest. If he had ever had any small, slight chance with her, he had ruined it all in the space of one short hour. She surely would not let him into her life again. She was done with him. As well she probably should be. He didn't deserve her.

_**~*~ O ~*~ X ~*~ O ~*~**_

Bella slammed the door behind her and leaned back on it heavily. When she finally heard movement in the next room and then the quiet shutting of her apartment door indicating he had left, then and only then did she let go. She took in several deep breaths and tears sprang to her eyes. She glanced down, taking in her appearance. Her torn slip and gown were in shreds, barely covering her. There were a few areas on her skin that were starting to color, especially on her arms, where he had grabbed her. She held up her hand and saw it was trembling, as a shiver washed over her near naked body. She rushed over to the bathtub and started drawing a bath, letting the water heat up.

_**~*~ O ~*~ X ~*~ O ~*~ X~*~ O ~*~ X ~*~ O ~*~**_

After burying her father the young lady had returned home to an empty apartment with a late-rent notice on the door and mostly-bare cupboards. She had already cried so many tears she had none left. Instead she sat and stared emptily at her surroundings until dark and sleep eventually overtook her.

The next morning she awoke to the same bleak existence she had fallen asleep to the night before. Her father was the only family she had and with him gone, she now had no one to lean on anymore—she had to take care of herself. So she picked herself up, dried the last tears away and went off to find herself a job. She knocked on the door of every business she could think of. A few places thought she was too young. Most places said they simply weren't hiring right now. She worked at the grocer and she tried working as a maid, but with her clumsiness those jobs didn't last long.

One night she was heading home after another long day walking the streets, looking for work. Her feet hurt, she was exhausted, discouraged and hungry. Her head down, nearly asleep on her feet, tears of frustration rolling down her face she literally ran into an older woman standing on the street corner and nearly knocked them both down. As she tried to apologize, the woman with flowing, fiery, red hair whirled on her with eyes blazing. As the young woman sputtered and babbled an apology, the older woman suddenly was eyeing her up and down, sizing her up. The young woman was a disheveled mess and clearly desperate. The red-headed woman played on the young woman's innocence and desperation, first by being sympathetic to her and loaning her money, and then drawing her into working for her on the streets as a "lady of the evening."

The young woman was shocked and scared when she realized what she would have to do, but she was already beholden to the red-headed witch and she needed money. She had tried so hard to find a job for weeks and had come up with nothing. It was either this or ending up out on the street with nothing but the clothes on her back.

During her first "job" she had cried the whole time. It was painful and she felt so ashamed and dirty. But at the end of the day when the red-headed lady handed over her portion of what she had earned, it was more than she could ever make in a day working as a house maid or in a store.

So the young woman got up the next day and did the same thing again . . . and the next day, and the next day. Eventually she grew numb to the men and to the idea of what she was doing and learned how to close herself off.

One day she noticed a tall dark-skinned man with jet-black hair in a ponytail watching her from across the street. She assumed he would come over to inquire of her services, but he never did. Instead he moved on after a few minutes and she quickly forgot about him.

Except that he passed by again the next day . . . and the next. And always he would stop and watch her.

One day she turned around and suddenly there he was, literally inches from her face. Assuming what he wanted, she recited her usual opening line to him. He smiled at her and replied that yes he was interested but not the way she thought. He paid her for an hour of her time then took her around the corner for a cup of tea. And just like that, the young lady found herself adjusting to another radical change in her life.

The dark man, a native from America who had come across the sea seeking fortune, owned his own business. In fact he and the red-haired woman dealt in the same profession. The difference being, that he opted to run his "business" a bit more discreetly, serving a more elite type of clientele. His girls worked in the lap of luxury compared to the girls on the streets.

The man had been taken with the beautiful brunette from the first moment he saw her on the street. She seemed a bit shy and awkward but there was something special about her that just stood out from the other girls on the streets, a strength and a resolve that existed underneath the awkwardness.

It required some seedy negotiation but eventually the dark-haired man was able to get the red-haired woman to release the young woman to him. In turn, young woman liked the man from America and she was so happy to be rid of the red-haired woman and to be off the streets she didn't care about much else.

Overnight she went from working on dirty, damp streets to a lush, opulent club dripping in dark wood and velvet. She wore fancy dresses of the finest fabrics and even fancier corsets and stockings. Her hair curled and rouge on her cheeks, she did not look at all like the same person. She still was in the business of servicing men for money, but the men were of a better social class and the money was far more than she could have ever dreamed. The man from America was extremely good to his girls—paying them well, making sure they had anything they needed, _and_ making sure the clients treated them well. Inappropriate behavior was not tolerated. He never thought twice about throwing a customer out or banning them from the club if they caused a problem for one of his girls.

Many years went by, and the young woman remained a favorite of the American man. They developed a close friendship, in fact he was the only real friend the young woman had ever had. She eventually began to help him run the club, working side-by-side with her friend.

He poured so much of himself into the work of owning and maintaining his business that he ignored the initial symptoms that told him something was wrong with his health. One day the young woman found him collapsed on the floor in the back room and within a few days he was gone. He had succumbed to scarlet fever. The young woman was devastated and found herself once again mourning the loss of the most important person in her life.

This time however, she would not be left scrambling, trying to find work and put food on the table. She was amazed to discover that her wonderful friend had left her an amazing gift—he bequeathed the entire club to her, and her alone. She became the only female in all of London to own a gentleman's club. The day the lawyer handed her the key, she left her "working girl" days behind her and walked in the front door a real businesswoman. To honor her friend and his gift she changed the name of the club, placing both of their names in the title. He would never be forgotten.

_**~*~ O ~*~ X ~*~ O ~*~ X~*~ O ~*~ X ~*~ O ~*~**_

Bella craned her neck, leaning her head back over the edge of the porcelain tub. The scalding water heated her skin and seeped into her tight muscles. She purposely made the water as hot as she could stand it, wanting to burn off all traces of his touch, his smell.

She never should have opened the door; clearly he was insane, coming night after night to the club, then following her to her apartment. Any other patron, she would have been notifying the police as soon as she could get word to them.

But Edward was not just "any other patron." Bella had known the Masen family would be in attendance at the ball and she knew so many years had passed that they would not recognize her. Lord and Lady Masen probably barely saw her when her parents worked for them, there is no way they would know her now or remember her.

And Edward . . . he was just a baby. He surely would not remember the little dark-haired girl that once played with him all those many years ago. She was certainly not a little girl anymore. And he was definitely not a baby anymore—he was all man now. She remembered looking across the crowded room and seeing him for the first time that night, before he had ever taken notice of her. He had the same strange bronze-tinted hair, but he was tall and lean, his gaunt face showing off well-defined cheekbones. Every young lady in the room was fully aware of him and gossiped about him—who would he dance with this evening, why was he not courting anyone. They followed his every move. He was the prize they all coveted, the most eligible bachelor in the room.

Her reaction surprised herself as well. Her breath stopped for a moment and her heart skipped a beat at his beauty and . . . something more, she wasn't sure what at the time. There was a strange pull she felt to him, as if her body instantly knew of its own accord when he was in the room. She realized she had felt the same pull when she was a child, though at the time she assumed it was strictly curiosity.

She tried to ignore him the rest of the evening. But then he caught her on the balcony . . . and then he wanted to dance. She should have ran from him then, she should have said no. Because when she looked into his emerald eyes, when the heat of his hand touching her body electrified them both and she saw the look on his face, she knew. She knew he felt the connection too.

God why, why couldn't he let it go? After he found out what she was, why did he keep coming to the club every night? Why was he so persistent, why didn't he just forget her? He knew they could not be together. She fought every night to not go over to him, it was for his own good that he just forget her. It was pity for him that led her to open her door tonight, hoping she could finally persuade him to leave her alone.

She knew he had been drinking at the club, but she had not expected such anger from him. And then suddenly he was gripping her arms and pressing himself against her and nipping at her neck and . . . it was all too much. Her traitorous body cared not for what was right or what was proper or what could or couldn't be between them—her body burned for his and only craved more.

Bella shivered in the tub, her body cold and yet heated all at once at just the memory of him touching her, of him inside her. Even now she felt the heat coiling again between her legs. So many men she had been with in her young life, all forgettable. Not one of them had ever made her feel like he did. Not one of them had ever brought out the sounds from her that he had. And never before had she felt such overwhelming pleasure. Her whole body shook with intense need for him. She was embarrassed at her body's betrayal, after the things he said, the things he said _during_ . . . but she couldn't stop herself.

Finally, _after_, she managed to pull herself together, at least mentally. She didn't know why she even said anything to him, she didn't owe him any answers, and he certainly didn't deserve any explanation of her associations with the Viscount. And yet she told him anyway. He was wrong in his tirade and she needed him to know that. Even though society would always brand her, she was _not_ a common whore—at least not anymore— and she refused to be treated as such.

Not that it mattered whether he knew the truth or not, she was sure he would not be back, now. He had gotten what he wanted. And if he did return, she vowed she would be stronger this time. No, she would not give into him again.


	7. Chapter 7

_***^*^*^* AUTHOR'S NOTE *^*^*^***_

First off, if you clicked on this chap. because you have the story on alert,  
I'm sorry it is not a real chapter! I know it's been eons since I updated, and I know we're stuck at a sort of cliff-hanger in the story right now. I promise you I am not posting this note because I am abandoning the story, it _**will**_ be finished! I am, however putting the story on hiatus for a while.

I have another WIP that was started before this one and is coming to it's last 3-4 chapters. I would like to concentrate on finishing that one up first, which will allow me to not only give that one my full attention, but also to this one as well when I come back to it. I am hoping to be able to restart on this one at the beginning of the new year, and hoping for quicker updates.

Thank you all for your patience!

_Oh and please do NOT leave a review on this Author's Note Chap. as it will eventually be deleted._


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